


To be or Not to be... Late

by Merwild



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:10:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merwild/pseuds/Merwild
Summary: Between jobs, devouring passion, and a secret relationship, it can be complicated for Ignis and Prompto to be on time. Or maybe they just don't need to be?





	To be or Not to be... Late

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by http://besin-is-a-moogle.tumblr.com/

_We had more to talk about. Join you at 8. Tell Gladio._

Delayed, unlike Noct's expectations. However, this is anything but unusual. With a few taps of my fingers, I explain the situation to our friend.

_Noctis' meeting with his father will take longer than planned. The rendezvous at the restaurant has been postponed to 8 pm._

I send the message to Gladio as the water starts to flow in the bathroom. Prompto; this news should delight him.

When I arrived at his parents' house, Prompto was only just getting ready for his shower, putting us in a tricky situation. We'd be late for dinner. Or should I say 'late again'? I’d closed the door behind me, and the absence of proper greetings left a taste of abandonment on my tongue. There was no kiss. Prompto usually never misses an occasion to welcome me. Another way to emphasize our delay.

“Is this really necessary, Prompto?” I’d asked him after he announced his need to clean, and I quote, _from head to toe and even more here and there_. But the evidence revealed itself when he turned away from me. Dirt inlaid in the folds of the back of his neck, in his hair, and sweat caked his arms. Getting rid of his clothes on his way back to the bathroom, Prompto turned to me to grimace.

“You have no idea,” he told me, his face reddened by the friction of his t-shirt against his skin. I followed him into the living-room, my eyes falling by pure instinct on the lower line of his spine lit by the evening sun. “We spent the day in the shed again. I have dust everywhere. Smell's fucking worse than my old school's gym, I swear.”

“Indeed.”

He didn't react to my remark, too busy keeping his balance as he tried to free his feet from the legs of his jeans. His beautiful lavender eyes opened in shock all of a sudden, heralds of more swearing.

“Shit! How can it be so late already?”

“My offer to drive you home from work still stands, should you ever change your mind.” I was of course evading the fact that I was myself late to pick him up. Giving him a ride might not make a noticeable difference.

“Nah, babe!” and his jeans fell of the floor, not so far from the pitiful pile that was his t-shirt. “Told ya! You're doing enough already. I don't mind walking. Just need to… find a shortcut. Or a shortcut to my shortcut, I mean. If I could warp, just like Noct… that'd be rad!”

And the clock was still ticking in the heat of this late spring day.

“Less talking, perhaps?”

His eyes stared at the clock again, getting my point right away. We were running out of time.

“Yeah! On my way. Faster than lightning!”

He ran off, the hem of his underwear low enough on his hips to reveal the cleft of his butt. Enjoying the view, my eyes lingered there until he left my field of vision.

Then Noctis' text arrived which means Prompto doesn't have to worry anymore. This last minute change offers us almost an hour to prepare. A blessing compared to the – a quick look at my watch. Yes – four minutes we had before being officially late. A deep sigh escapes my lips and I consider my surroundings. Apart from the clothes on the floor, everything's in order. The hoover is still in the middle of the living room. Aborted spring-cleaning, apparently.

With Prompto busy in the shower, which always takes longer than announced, the best thing to do would be to make a good use of the time that is given to me.

We have an agreement. Prompto and I decided not long after we started to date that I would keep my hands away from his – another quote – _mess and stupid chores_. That day, after sharing a nice dinner at his place, my first reflex was to reach out for the dirty dishes to clean and – let's be honest – put a bit of a long lost order in his kitchen. And Prompto's first reflex was to stop me.

“Nah! You're my guest, Iggy, remember?”

It was actually hard to remember considering the menu had been elaborate and cooked by myself. He was right, though; I was still his guest. But some habits are hard to break. And probably because I was insisting, Prompto made everything clear once and for all.

“Don't do that, ok? You're not serving anyone. You're my boyfriend, right?”

The sound of this title on his thin and perky lips warmed me to the bones. It was all new back then. Who am I trying to fool? It's still very new.

His _boyfriend_.

“So it seems,” I’d told him, repressing a smile that instead appeared on his face.

“Yeah, great. So…” Then he stood between the pile of dishes and me, creating a wall. “That's my mess and stupid chore. You sit and watch.”

“You want me to watch you wash the dishes? Interesting. Should I take notes as you're doing so?”

“Ok, maybe not watch. Just keep your hands away from that.”

So here it is; our agreement. Yet, as the water is running in the shower, as time keeps running as well, I can't help but pick up the clothes my adorable boyfriend threw on the floor to put them where they belong. In the dirty laundry basket, not too far from the washing machine that…

By the Six, when is the last time he found the time to use it? The clothes don't even fit in the already overflowing basket.

My poor Prompto. Everything has changed so much in his life lately. A new job, to begin with. A job that requires an hour of walking every day. Then… yes, there is me. To tell you the truth, this job is what drew us closer to one another. He needed help for his application, to write his cover letter, and I offered to assist him. We started to spend a lot of our free time together, only working of his letter, then sharing a dinner. Then more happened. When he got the job, I was there, and exactly as I hoped from the bottom of my heart, he still wanted me around afterward. It was a month ago, but obviously the changes in his life still require a few adjustments.

Before I even realize what I'm doing, the tank of the washing machine is already half filled with clothes. I shouldn't be doing this. I'm doing it anyway. Later tonight, when Prompto comes back from dinner he won't have to worry about anything but rest and…

Another sigh. I'm wrong. This is not what we agreed on and… Prompto wouldn't approve. And I trust him.

It hurts every cell of my body but one by one, I remove the clothes from the tank, hoping that they will quickly return to a cleaner state. Once back in the kitchen, I wash my hands and take another instinctive look at my watch. Last time was only five minutes ago. Even if Prompto decides to throw in a load of laundry himself, we'd still make it in time.

I’m ridiculous. Worrying so much is not doing me any good.

“Where are my clothes?”

I turn at the sound of Prompto's voice. His hair is wet and the rest of his body seems to have been summarily dried by the clothes he's wearing. It is only now that I realize I forgot to give him an update regarding Noct's change of plan. I'm pretty sure his body is still wet under his red tank top.

“In the laundry basket,” I answer, drying my hand.

“Iggy...”

“I'll let you take care of the rest, of course,” I hurry to add, since the tone of his voice is charged with reproach.

He chews on his cheek and smiles faintly. “Let me put my shoes on, and we're off.”

Before I can protest, he runs off to his bedroom.

I follow him this time. “How about taking the time to breathe a little,” I recommend. “Noct just sent me a message. The dinner is at 8.”

He turns to me without a word, his expression unreadable. Yes, it wouldn't have been a bad idea to tell him the moment I received the information. From hurrying so much, he's going to break a sweat again. Standing right in front of his wardrobe, hand suspended in the air, he doesn't even seem to remember what he was doing.

“You know what? I don't care. I'm too tired to bitch.”

And just like that, he's himself again. With a long and deep breathe, he leans against the furniture, grabs the lower rim of his top, and he flaps it up and down to allow a bit of fresh air to flow. What an original way to dry his skin. Original and terribly distracting. I can't help but stare at his flat stomach and the belt of his white boxer. His skin shines in the dim light of his room. I could easily get closer and just like that, feel the curve of his muscles under my fingertips.

And it seems that Prompto noticed my pensive stare. His smile widens and he tilts his head to one side.

“Hey, hi there good looking,” he tells me and I laugh, feeling myself blush quite a bit. From a push of his shoulders, he moves away from his closet to get closer to me. Meeting his quiet thoughts as if he expressed them loudly, I open my arms and lose myself in his tight embrace. At last, he gives me the kiss he denied me when I arrived.

His skin is surprisingly hot. That being said, not so much of a surprise considering he just left the… Astral, the thin layer of water on his body and his face exacerbates every stroke of his skin against mine. We're both dressed, and yet the few undressed parts of us meeting are enough to give me vertigo. And just when I start to think that I might need air, a sweep of Prompto's tongue against my lips turns my thoughts upside-down. Only a handful of weeks and this man already knows so well how to trick me. He's amazing.

“How was you day?” I ask him, which is nothing more than a diversion. My body is asking for more but now is not the time.

“My day? Seriously?”

“Seriously, sweetheart.”

“In short, spent the day thinking about you, babe.”

“So I assume your work at the shop was somewhat prolific.”

“You don't look like you care about my day,” Prompto says, pressing himself against me, his face split in a smile from ear to ear.

“On the contrary, which is why I'm asking.”

Yet I'm already kissing the curve of his jaw, breathing in deep to fill myself with the sweet smell of skin and soap. My mouth slowly runs down the line of his jugular. His heartbeat vibrates under my lips. His heavy breathing sings in my ear. The furtive thought I've had for months in a corner of my head chases away all the reasonable resolutions in my mind: my tongue licking the side of his throat as I'm holding his head back, his hair firmly trapped in my fist. This time, Prompto's light moaning makes this daydreaming all the more realistic. I groan, the want burning inside me.

By the Six, I sometimes do not recognize myself anymore.

We've both been so busy for the past week that it had been impossible to see each other. All of a sudden, my body reacts to his absence; to the regained sensation of him.

Prompto looks down, right between our two bodies. “So it's my day that makes you feel like this?”

I follow his gaze and witness the evidence. I'm half roused against his own erection. It would be useless to deny the evidence. I can only smile as I look back at his face. His eyes are full of sparkles, his own grin mischievous and seductive. Ever so tenderly, I push away a lock of blonde hair crossing his face.

Prompto.

My heart is beating so fast right now, just like it did the first time he allowed my hands on him.

“So… Maybe we could… You know?” he says, and yes I know without a doubt. I know so well that I can't help another laugh, the nervous laugh of a man who wishes to jump with both feet in a trap but who has to refuse. “That's a yes, huh?”

Anyone else would state that we do have the time. Some would even add that being late at the restaurant wouldn't be so bad. Rude, surely. But love making is important and demands more than just a handful of minutes. Yet a voice in my head is telling me _just do it!_

“You know me, Prompto. We don't have the time and...”

“Yeah, yeah, my body deserves the best and blah blah blah.”

“Glad to see that you pay a lot of attention to what I say.”

My sarcasm only draws him closer to me. To be specific, his face to the hollow of my neck and his fingers to the buttons of my shirt. I don't even attempt to stop him or to defend my case. He's heading exactly where I want to go. Yet I still know we don't have the time. Furthermore, Noctis and Gladio are not aware of our relationship and making up an excuse to explain our delay wouldn't be pleasant. I try to lie as little as possible to my friends.

“Maybe we could try something else,” Prompto whispers in my ear. “What about doing things my way, for a change?”

I let the idea mull in my mind for a couple of seconds before asking him “What do you have in mind?”

“Really?”

He almost shouts the word in my ear and I quickly move back in order to preserve my hearing.

“It wasn't a yes, but perhaps you could give me a glimpse?” To be honest about this situation, it was actually a yes. This dinner is going to lasts for hours, pleasant hours, no doubt about it, but I've missed Prompto more than my words can express, and I do not wish to wait any longer. “So...”

Still smiling, his cheekbones high and red, Prompto bites his lip. It appears that he doesn't quite know what to do with his hands, all of a sudden. No more fingers opening my shirt. Instead he hangs on to my suspenders as if the floor under his feet isn't enough to ground him to this world.

“Well…” The word lasts forever, trapped at the tip of his tongue. “You know… I've...”

My sweet Prompto. More than ever before, I wish I had hours ahead of me. I would simply lift him in my arms and I'd take him right back to the shower until there is no hot water left anymore.

“Darling, we can still head to the restaurant if you rather keep the playing for later,” I propose, trying to appease what I take for discomfort.

“No! It's just, I didn't think you'd go for it so fast.” He stops me, pulling me closer by my suspenders to leave a soft kiss on my mouth. “I… know what I want.”

“You have my undivided attention.”

The flush on his cheeks now reaches his ears. Charming. He seems to judiciously be choosing his words before he opens his mouth again.

“I've always wanted to see you… well–”

“You need to be more precise, darling.”

“Jerk off.”

It's less than a murmur, almost filled with shame even in the intimacy of his bedroom, and my heart misses a beat, pleased with his revelation.

“You want to watch me pleasure myself?” I repeat to make sure of his intentions and he giggles against me, nodding, running out of words altogether now. “Well,” I blow as I pretend to check on the time we have left on my watch, pretend only because my thoughts are already wandering far away from our obligations. “I'd say we can make it work. Nevertheless, on one condition.”

“Yeah?”

“What about doing the same for me,” I ask, and I run my fingers in his short hair, massaging his scalp ever so slightly. He groans and closes his eyes, leaning into my touch like a cat welcoming its owner's petting. “Would you mind giving me a hand, sweetheart?”

“Whatever you need.”

“Fabulous.” One more kiss, soft and slow, then deeper. My tongue finds its way between his parted lips that open right away at the request. I grunt in his mouth, teasing him, giving more chance for desire to climb. Prompto's response, hips thrusting along the length of my cock, sends me to the stars. I free his mouth at last. It is time. The tension of my trousers on my cock becomes unbearable. “How do you usually do that?” I asks, sucking in a breath.

He opens his eyes, a blissful look on his face already. “Huh?”

“Would you prefer to sit? To lie on the bed? Do you wish to make yourself comfortable and undress. Or maybe not?”

“Oh! Hum… It's home, too many options right now.” He takes a look around, my hand still pressing lightly on the back of his head. “I like to get rid of my pants and just… Yeah, I'll take the bed.”

“Make yourself comfortable.”

“What about you?”

I noticed a chair the first time he invited me in. This shall suffice. All I need is a good front seat. In a swift motion of my index and my thumb, I slide the zipper of Prompto's jeans all the way down, but I take it no further. Once again, nothing but an invitation.

“Let me grab a seat,” I tell him as I push my spectacles higher on the bridge of my nose. I roll the chair from his desk to the bed, keeping the former and the latter a good distance apart, enough to prevent me from reaching for Prompto, or the other way around. “Shall we?”

At my call, Prompto's smile resurfaces and he jumps on the bed, pushing his pants to his ankles before wriggling his feet to take them off completely. I sit and remember at the last second to not cross my legs. Did I already forget what he's expecting me to do?

Touch myself.

Well this is a first, making a show out of it. Not the touching of course. While having an audience never crossed my mind, I know in advance that Prompto will make a wonderful one.

Displayed on his mattress, he however seems to hesitate. Signs of shyness, perhaps. This isn't an easy game, I cannot deny it. The touching, kissing, and whispering against each others' skin is not only a demonstration of love and desire. They're also meant to guide, arouse, and reassure. Right now, Prompto and I only have our eyes and our voices to play this part. I want him to feel safe. I want him to enjoy himself and have no regrets. I begin to know him and I'm almost certain that he won't propose anything before a long time if he thinks that this idea was bad.

And it's not necessarily a bad one. Like I told him a couple of minutes ago, we can make it work, and I refuse to go back on my word.

“Let me get myself comfortable,” I say.

He grins as I finish the work he started, which is to entirely unbutton my shirt. Then I slide the white fabric under my suspenders to keep my chest uncovered. The room is warm, partially from the heat originating from our bodies. It will get hotter very quickly.

My hand rested on the bump on my trousers, I look back at him, at his strong and thin legs, and his muscular arms, at the curve of his throat.

“Shall I get more comfortable?” I ask him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, biting his lower lip, eyes fixed on my crotch.

I oblige.

Ever so slowly, my fingers untie my belt and a low zipping sound fills the room. I'm only watching Prompto as my hand disappears in my underwear, and I gasp before pausing. My skin is burning and the flesh is hard under my palm.

“Hey, let me see,” he complains.

“Follow my lead, darling.”

As a mirror reaction, his own hand runs down his stomach until it stops on his cock, kneading it lightly through the cotton of his boxers. This sight only makes me even hotter. I wish I was his hand.

I need to see more of him.

One move and I extract my cock. A long silence from Prompto, not even a breath. Not the reaction I was hoping for, but still a nice one. I suppose that _I_ am now the audience and I'll need to give all I have in order to have him reciprocate.

So be it. We're doing things his way, after all.

Let's start gently. If I were alone in the intimacy of my apartment, I would have already wrapped my fist around my cock, eyes closed, making the experience as fast as possible. But I'm facing a valuable young man, dear to my heart, and I want to be worthy of his time and fantasies.

So I only apply my fingers, and I keep the touching light and timorous at first. With Prompto's big eyes on me, I can't forget that I'm putting on a show. This, the soft caress of my fingertips on the sides of my dick, is for him only.

For now, at least.

This seems to have its effect. For my greatest pleasure, Prompto pushes his boxers down to mid-thigh. His beautiful cock springs free, so red compared to the pale color of his stomach, and he initiates a convincing imitation of my own moves. His are wider, covering the entirety of his length. I notice a shiver in his legs. For a second, I almost forget to act. This is gorgeous. He is gorgeous. And do I need to be precise how much I enjoy the sight of his cock? The shape is a delight, the size perfectly adapted to the rest of his body. And I know from experience that it wonderfully fits in my hand, and in my mouth.

The first time I saw Prompto naked, I swore, literally. My brain paused momentarily, and the 'fuck' I whispered in a breath was, to my opinion, more eloquent than any king of speech. My eyes couldn't believe the existence of such perfection.

Even today, I feel like the most privileged man alive. This is a view I will never get tired of.

“Is it good, sweetheart?” I say, hypnotized by his hand going up and down.

“You tell me, baby.”

And he raises his eyebrows in a genuine questioning. Strangely, I can't help but think that he knows that I'm not pleasuring myself. That he guesses I'm mainly trying to please him. What a discerning man…

Maybe I should take this to another level; one that would leave no doubt between us.

Once my fingers at the tip of my dick, my thumb comes into play. It finds a drop on the tip and it starts to draw circles and circles. Yes, this is nice. I let my thumb turn a while longer, faster with each round, before I trap my cock in my hand and push. Just a little to retract the skin. Just enough to steal me a whimper.

It's low, right from the depths of my guts. I had not seen it coming. I push again, further this time. The entire head appears, shiny with pre-come, and I go back to it with burning enthusiasm, my palm closing like a stranglehold around it for a few seconds.

“That's what I'm talking about,” Prompto laughs from the bed.

Astral, this made me in such an adequate mood that even the sound of his voice makes my cock twitch in my hand. I resume my touching, in order to satisfy the growing need right between my legs.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, out of the blue, distracting my thoughts.

And here I am, trying to put them in order. I'm only thinking of him. No specific setting or action other than the ones occurring in this room right now. Yet, I guess this answer would be disappointing to him. My hand stills at the base of my cock, gripping tight. I exhaled then breath in, deeply.

“I'd want you to be closer,” I tell him, the picture drawing itself in my mind, fed by the wonderful sensation radiating from my groin.

“Closer how?”

I laugh somehow. This is still hard to think and concentrate on my body at the same time. Challenging, I must say.

“Do you… Do you remember the last time I visited you?” I ask, and he nods. Two seconds later, a cocky smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Yes, you do.”

Everything occurred in the living room. To make it short, Prompto indulged me, kneeling between my legs, getting the best out of me. It was the first time he was going down on me and I will never forget the moment I slid into the wet heat of his mouth. I still ignore where he learnt all the delicious things he did with his tongue that night, but I'm grateful at the memory of this offering.

Yes, this is a relevant picture to bring back in this very moment.

“You tasted so good, babe.” The smile on Prompto's face is enchanting as he dares pronounce those words. “Give another push for me.”

And I obey, the motion as slow as possible, from the tip to the balls. Hand firmly closed, remembering the feel of his tongue stroking my cock restlessly, the wet sound of his mouth swallowing me whole, I keep pushing. Up and down. I keep it up for long minutes.

Launched at a higher speed, I'm not quite sure I could stop right now. The pleasure grows with each passing caress, and I lightly thrust into my fist, my hips snapping in time with my rushed breathing.

This feels so good. So good it won't take long before I come. I look away from my cock. Prompto is barely touching himself anymore, focused on my hand sliding back and forth. However his legs are spread wide now, as to invite me in… Yes, this is what I want. To lose myself in his flesh, to thrust deep and hard as he calls my name, begging me, coming in my arms.

My other hand is in my pants before I can even notice it moved. The touch on my swollen balls is all I need to jump over the edge and reach complexion. I haven't touched myself like this is a very long time. Long enough to forget when it actually occurred. Why? This is an enchantment. It should always be like this. It…

By the Six! I open my legs instinctively and extend my fingers to reach the area right before my hole. The room is now filled with my grunting. I can hear myself exhale and moan through the loud pulsing on my eardrums. I'm close, so wonderfully close.

I wish Prompto's hands were on me, on my chest, joining the one of my pants. I want his mouth…

A few more strong pumps of my fist and here I am. I close my eyes. I can't look at him, not when I'm so shamelessly taking advantage of the memory of his body to arouse myself.

I bite my lip as I come, every muscle of my being contracted by the pleasure that submerges me and steals my breath away. I swallow hard as my head falls back against the chair, just the way it did the time Prompto took me in his mouth.

“Oh Iggy, you have no idea how much I've wanted to watch you crumble from between your legs,” he teased me back then, but now the sound of his voice is distorted in my memory.

My throat was tight, and I was breathless, over the moon. My hand only reached out to his face, shaking as my thumb brushed against the corner of his mouth to wipe it. _I love you_ was all I had in mind, the only answer able to convey my feelings for him. The orgasm, the joy of his presence, the promise of more enjoyments to come. All of these were about to extract this confession right from my heart.

It felt too soon. No matter when I truly felt in love with him, which started long before our very first kiss, this was too soon and I didn't wish to scare him away. So I held my tongue, smiled, gathered my strength, and took him there, on the sofa. Nothing but another way to express my love for him.

Even right now, I still want to say these words.

_I love you. I love you, Prompto._

“Oh babe!” Prompto's whispers in the distance. “You're so beautiful. I wish you could come again.”

This wouldn't have the same effect in other circumstances, but right now, as I struggle to regain my senses, my hand still working my cock to the last drop, Prompto's words are the funniest I've ever heard.

“This would probably knock me down,” I say, this pleasuring session leaving me numb. I giggle for a moment, long enough to open my fist and rest it on my stomach, and for the sweat on my chest and forehead to turn cold. Then I look back at my boyfriend.

Prompto's crooked smile is still here. It's like he can't take it off of his freckled face. It's bright and generous, like happiness. And how comforting it is to see him so genuinely happy.

“I notice that you abandoned me along the way,” I tell him.

“My bad! Let me catch up...” he says and his hand immediately reaches for his crotch.

“Don't...” I stop him as his fingers prepare to grab his cock. “Don't make a move.”

I look around, find a box of tissues near the bed, and clean my chest and stomach quickly. Once closer to Prompto, my pants and shirt still open, I slip my hand beneath his in another invitation.

“May I?”

He only nods, cheeks red and eyes sparkling.

I don't immediately take care of his dick, taking the time first to take off his underwear still hanging mid-thighs. The rustle of fabric along his legs is enough to make his cock flex. I can already confirm that it won't be long. It's only now that I remember that his sensitivity and eagerness work in our favor, that losing track of time could send us back to our previous delay. No, I won't check my watch just to make sure of it. This moment is ours.

Instead I climb of the bed and kneel on top of Prompto. His breathing speeds up all of a sudden. My own cock, still out of my trousers, is now so close to his. The view is promising. I can already plan the events for the rest of the night.

“Oh baby!” he gasps as my hand finally wraps around him. He's desperately hard in my palm and without any further ado, he rocks his hips up, demanding, initiating the massage that I haven't started to give him yet. “Please, Iggy.”

I oblige. How could I make him wait any longer?

As expected, this only requires a handful of minutes. Just like Prompto, I savor every single one of them, stroking soft and slow at first, enjoying the feel of his cock sliding against my fingers. He moans, licks his lips, bites them sometimes, closes his eyes to open them seconds later to marvel at the view. He actually doesn't seem to be able to look away.

So much for eye contact.

I could almost assume that he forgot I'm here, right on top of him, until his hand clings on to the sheets as he shouts “Fuck it, Iggy! We have time.”

“Are you sure?” but this isn't a serious question. Plans are plans and I won't cancel ours, no matter how much I crave to lose myself into Prompto's body.

The pace becomes steadier, my grip on his cock firms up.

“Oh yes!” he groans. “I'm so… I'm so close.” Clearly, this sole change of attention is enough to make up his mind.

“Are you now?”

The pink at his cheeks reached his ears a long time ago – around the moment I accepted his proposition, if I remember right – but it's sweat that beads on his face as my other hand grazes his sensitive skin, just a few inches lower. And lower. I'm not planning to finger him, even though the idea is painfully tempting. I'm keeping this treat for later. But I know Prompto adores this kind of teasing.

“I love to think about something good that's about to happen, but like, you don't know when,” he told me weeks ago, on our very first night together.

It was the same room, same bed, too small for both us to sleep side by side but big enough for sex. I know now, as I'm falling in love more and more everyday, that almost anywhere is big enough to make love to Prompto.

He was caressing my chest, blushing at the confession. “You know,” he added, avoiding my gaze, as if too shy to utter these words right to my face “Like in your car, that night. I knew we'd kiss. I wanted it so badly, man. The way you were looking at me. I was so horny just knowing it could happen.”

“Did the said-kiss live up to your expectations?” I asked him, my hand feeling the smooth skin of his arm. The conversation itself made me want to fuck him again, but we were both exhausted and this pillow talk was our only solution to make this night last longer.

He told me that yes, the kiss was even better than he expected. That after my departure he touched himself in the shower. And we laughed. However, I didn't confess to him that I did exactly the same once the door of my apartment locked. This kiss… Our first kiss. Yes, it had been something.

And now, we trust each other enough to share this intimacy face to face.

As a result to my touching, Prompto's hand disappears under his tank top, pinching his nipple.

He's ready, closing his eyes longer every time he does, breathing loudly, legs wide open under my ass.

“Babe! I'm gonna come,” he confirms, panting, still waving my hips up and down into my touch.

His pleasure extends and rises with each move. Faster and tighter I go, and he cries out once again throughout the whole duration of his orgasm. I keep working him, even after Prompto becomes quiet and trembling.

“How about doing this a second time?” I tell him later, letting go of his sensitized cock, to remind him of his earlier remark.

Eyes half closed, his tongue running from one corner of his mouth to the other, Prompto chuckles. More breath than voice, he answers to me, “Whenever you want, babe.”

Such a tease.

He needs more time to recover than I did, but the motivation to pleasure him was the key in my case. And I'm willing to bet that all he wants and dreams of right now is to take a well deserved nap. This was a long day for Prompto, and after this I hate to remind him of our commitment to Noct and Gladio. As I get up, picking up his underwear I threw on the floor to rest it on the corner of the bed, the guilt almost holds my tongue.

“Not to be too much of a killjoy, but you might want to stop by the bathroom again, darling.”

After a nod and a never-ending lazy groan, he rises on one elbow, quickly realizing that he will have to change his shirt. He only pouts and looks at me.

“How long do we have to wash?” he asks with a hint of shadows under his eyes.

I take a quick look at my watch then I let my arm fall at my side, calmer than ever.

“We are officially late.”

At these words, Prompto's laughter fills the room and he lets himself go on his bed, half naked. The sound of his laugh in this very moment is worth our friends' future reproaches.

I suppose now is the time to make up a perfect lie.


End file.
